CHAPTER XIV
_Faithfully Narrating the Amazing Experiences of a Newfoundland Schooner and Describing Billy Topsail's Conduct in a Sinking Boat_
THE deck of the _Rescue_ was now littered with wreckage and casks.Splinters of the jib-boom, all tangled with the standing rigging, layupon the forward deck. The maintopmast had snapped off, and hung fromthe mainmast in a tangle of wire and rope. They had already cut themainsail halyards, and the big sail lay upon the boom, on the portside, in disarrayed folds.
The bows were high out of the water, as if the ship had run up a steep,submerged shelf of ice; and the seas, which the wind of the night hadraised, from time to time broke over the stern. It was impossible,however, to determine the general situation of the schooner. The fogwas too thick for that, and the day had not yet fully broken. All thatwas revealed, in a glance about, was that upon one hand lay a waste ofbreaking water, and upon the other a dull white mass, lifting itselfinto the mist.
"'Tis bad, lads," said the skipper, when the first and second hands hadjoined him under the mainmast shrouds.
"She's lost," said the first.
"We'll be takin' t' the boat," said the second.
"I'm not so sure that she's lost," said the skipper. "Whatever, we'llnot take t' the boat till we have to."
The first and second hands exchanged a glance, and together looked atthe boat. The swift glance and look were a danger-signal to the skipper.
"Does you hear me?" he shouted, his voice ringing out above the wash ofthe waves and the noise of the wind. "We'll not leave her. Take a spellat the pump, both o' you!"
For a moment the skipper's authority was in doubt. The men wavered.A repetition of the command, however, with clenched fists ready toenforce it, decided them. They relieved young Billy.
"Is the water gainin', b'y?" said the skipper to the lad.
Billy looked up steadily. The fright had left his eyes. He hadrecovered his self-possession.
"No, sir," he said, quietly. "'Tis gettin' less all the while."
At that moment the ship lurched slightly and slid off the shelf. Theskipper shouted an order to raise the foresail, and ran aft to takethe wheel. But the fall of the topmast had so tangled the riggingand jammed the gaff and boom that before the crew could remove theunconscious cook and lift the sail, the wind had turned the schoonerand was driving her stern foremost, as it appeared, on the ice.
The skipper, from his station at the wheel, calmly observed the nearingberg, and gave the schooner up for lost. There was no time to raisethe sail--no room for beating out of danger. He saw, too, that if shestruck with force, the quarter-boat, which was swinging from davitsastern, would be crushed to splinters.
"She's lost!" he thought. "Lost with all hands!"
Nearer approach, however, disclosed the strange fact that there was abreak in the ice. When the schooner was still a few fathoms nearer, itwas observed that the great berg was in reality composed of two massesof ice, with a narrow strait leading between them.
The light was now stronger, and the fog had somewhat thinned; it waspossible to distinguish shadowy outlines--to see that great cliffs ofice descended on each side of the passage to the water's edge. Stilldeeper in the mist it was lighter, as if the strait indeed led directlythrough the berg to the open sea beyond. The crew was gathered aft,breathlessly awaiting the schooner's fate, helpless to fend or aid; andthe cook was lying on the roof of the cabin, where they had laid himdown, revived in part, and desperately struggling to recover his senses.
"SHE'S LOST!" HE THOUGHT. "LOST WITH ALL HANDS."]
"Lads," said the skipper, at last, "the Lord has the schooner in Hishands. They's a way through the ice. He's guidin' her into it, butwhether He'll save us or not, He only knows."
The _Rescue_ drifted fairly into the passage, which was irregular, butin no part less than twice the width of the vessel. She was swept on,swinging from side to side, striking her bow here and her stern there;and with every shock fragments of rotten ice fell in a shower fromabove.
How soon one might strike one of their number down, no man knew. Howsoon some great mass, now poised in the mist, might be dislodgedand crush the schooner in its fall, no man knew. How soon the toweringcliffs might swing together and grind the ship to splinters, no mancould tell. Were these masses of ice connected deep down under water?Or were they floating free?
There were no answers to these questions. On went the schooner, sternforemost, slipping ever nearer to the open.[5]
"Skipper, sir," the first hand pleaded, "leave us launch thequarter-boat an' pull out. 'Tis--'tis--too horrible here."
"Ay, lads, if you will," was the reply.
It was then discovered that a block of ice had fallen in the boat atthe bows, and sprung the planking. She was too leaky to launch; therewas nothing for it but to wait.
"We'll calk those leaks as best we can," said the skipper. "They's notellin' what might----"
The stern struck a projection, and the bow swung round and lodgedon the other side. The schooner was jammed in the passage, almostbroadside to the wind. They made a shift at calking the leaks with ragsand a square of oiled canvas. At all hazards the schooner must befreed.
"We must get her off quick, lads!" the skipper cried. "Come, now, who'sgoing with me in the boat t' tow?"
"I, sir," said young Billy, stepping forward eagerly.
"I, sir," said the first hand.
"So it is," said the skipper. "Andy, Tom, when we hauls her bow off, doyou stand here with a gaff an' push. Lower away that boat, now! Billy,do you fetch a bucket for bailin'."
The boat was launched with great difficulty from her place in thestern davits. She began at once to fill, for the calking had been illdone, and she was sadly damaged. It took courage to leap into her fromthe taffrail, leaky as she was, and tossing about; but there was adesperate sort of courage in the hearts of the men who had volunteered,and they leaped, one by one.
Billy fell to bailing, and the skipper and the first hand rowed forwardto catch the line. The line once caught and made fast, they pulled outwith might and main.
"She's fillin' fast, sir!" Billy gasped.
"Bail, b'y, bail!"
The tow-rope was now taut. The skipper and the first hand pulledwith such strength that each stroke of an oar made a hissing littlewhirlpool.
"'Tis gainin' on me fast, sir," said Billy.
"Give way! Give way!" cried the skipper.
The bow of the schooner swung round inch by inch--so slowly that thesinking of the boat seemed inevitable.
"She'll sink, sir!" said Billy, in alarm, but still bailing steadily.
"Pull! Pull!"
When the schooner was once more in her old position--stern foremost,and driving slowly through the passage--the water was within an inchof the seats of the boat, which was now heavy and almost unmanageable.Twenty fathoms of water lay between the boat and the bow of theschooner.
"She's goin' down, sir!" said Billy.
"Cast lines!" the skipper shouted to those aboard.
Water curled over the gunwales. The boat stopped dead, and wavered, onthe point of sinking. Two lines came whizzing towards her, uncoiling intheir flight. The one was caught by the first hand, who threw himselfinto the water and was hauled aboard. Billy and the skipper caught theother. With its help and a few strong strokes they made the bow chainsand clambered to the deck.
"She's drivin' finely," said the skipper, when he had looked around."Stand by, there, an' be ready with the fores'l! We'll soon be through."
It was true enough; in a few minutes the schooner had safely driftedthrough the passage, and was making off from the berg under a reefedforesail, while the mist cleared and the sun shone out, and the peaksand cliffs of the island of ice, far astern, shone and glistened. Andthree days later the young skipper bounded up the path at Ruddy Cove,and the little toddler whom he loved was at the kitchen door to greethim.
FOOTNOTE:
[5] At this point it may be of interest to the reade
r to know that theincident is true.